Letters from the City of Fog and Opportunity
by LiechLiet
Summary: The city of London is now receiving letters! Ella Kirkland will answer your questions with a grin and an offhand remark, telling you about the days where she wasn't so relaxed. PM me to send her a letter! Any questions up to mild M-rated allowed.
1. Dear Reader

**Letters from the City of Fog and Opportunity**

Dear Reader,

Thanks for choosing to read this letter! I am London, more commonly known as Elizabeth Kirkland, or Ella. Seeing as my schedule's becoming more and more free these days – Cameron and Clegg are doing pretty much everything and have basically made me redundant – I've decided to open my letter box to any letters you might want to send me.

Let's start with a brief biography: I began as a town called Londinium, built by the Roman Empire in AD 43. I don't remember much of that time. Over the next thousand years I was attacked and claimed by the Saxons, then the Vikings and finally the Normans. I was just beginning to prosper when in the mid-fourteenth century I lost half my population during the Black Death, but I bounced back quickly.

During the reign of King Henry VIII and his Reformation, I was the centre of Protestantism. In the reigns of his children, I was a very confused city indeed – Protestant to Catholic to Protestant, my head was spinning! But once that period was over, I settled into my role as one of the most powerful cities in Europe. My human age was about eleven or twelve, I think. My worst trait back then was my xenophobia, my utter fear and suspicion of foreigners. The people of London were cruel to immigrants and foreigners, and many left to live in the Dutch cities instead.

During the English Civil War, I was on the side of the Parliament, but I generally stayed in my house, protected by a huge swathe of servants and guards, lest I fall into the hands of the Cavaliers. Luckily, it never happened. I was a Puritan during the Commonwealth, but once Oliver Cromwell was gone I didn't mind going back to the old ways.

The Great Plague was a bad time for me, and most of it was spent in a fevered haze. I was nursed, but nothing short of the Plague being eradicated would cure me. And the Great Fire did eradicate it, which burned for three days of complete _agony_. It left scars all over my chest and stomach, which you can still see faintly. But in the long run, it was for the greater good, because the new city was much cleaner, safer and more modern.

During the nineteenth century, I was around fifteen, and I admit, I was rather snobby and haughty when I was in good company. When I was alone, I could feel the pain of the poor, and I suppose that's what kept me from becoming a completely spoilt brat. I was upset when America left, but tried to focus on furthering myself rather than dwelling on him. The first police force, the first railway, and the improved sewage system were built up under the reign of Victoria and Albert, and later Victoria on her own. I comforted her when she mourned her husband.

The 1930s hit me hard, and the 40s harder – I was a wreck during the Blitz, lying comatose for a good part of the Second World War. Luckily by the time the 1950s rolled around, things were looking up – I became a home for many immigrants from Commonwealth countries, making me one of the most diverse cities in Europe, and the culture from Jamaica, India and Bangladesh Pakistan is still strong today. In the last thirty years of the twentieth century, I was a centre of worldwide youth culture, thanks to my great bands – the Beatles and the Rolling Stones to name a couple – and my growing reputation as a fashion capital.

That pretty much leads us up to the present – that took a while to write, and that's just the _brief_ history! These days, my human age is eighteen. I am five feet, five inches tall and my shoe size is 6 (American size 7, Continental size 39). My eyes are green, like Arthur's, but my hair is a bit darker. It's almost his colour on the top layers, but further down it gets darker – the very bottom is a dirty-blonde/light brown. It falls to halfway between my shoulder and my elbow, and I have a straight, heavy fringe. Naturally it curls slightly but usually I straighten it.

I hope I haven't bored you with my background. You can ask me anything - well, nothing _too_ indecent. I look forward to receiving a letter!

Regards,

Elizabeth Kirkland, London

P.S. Apparently I am called the City of Fog. The last few days have had misty mornings I admit, but since the people stopped using coal, I've gotten a lot better!

* * *

><p><strong>Ella Kirkland is my OC for London - I'm researching her as hard as possible, to make sure she isn't a... *shudders* Mary-Sue. To send her a letter, PM me! I'll copy and paste it into a new chapter and then write Ella's reply. You can stretch the boundaries of the T rating in your questions, but I don't want explicit M. I hope you send letters :)<strong>


	2. Letter 1: Dear Alaska

_Ella,_

_Privyet. This is Alaska. Russia and America's kid. So, yeah, yesterday I tried to catch a wild cat with no weapons or nets or anything, but then it tried to eat my face off and stuff... so I gave up, got bored, and decided to write to you. Yep._

_Your little intro thing was really freakin' long... Wow, you must be old. Like, REALLY old. But your life sounds kinda fun, ya know? Like the fires and the plague and stuff. It gets real boring where I live, so you have to come up with creative ways to avoid being bored to tears. Speaking of which, just out of curiosity, have you ever died before?_

_You're shoe size is what now...? Um, is that some covert way of asking people to get you shoes for your birthday? Didn't know the UK was experiencing a shoe shortage... There's some vodka in this package. Maybe it'll distract you from your lack-of-shoes. And if not, it'll be fun anyway._

_Also... dude, you ARE aware that telling people not to ask you anything indecent is practically begging for France-level comments, right? It's like telling a five year old not to push the pretty red button- huge mistake._

_Do svidaniya,_

_Nikolai (Alaska) Braginski-Jones_

* * *

><p>Dear Nikolai,<p>

My first letter! Thank you for sending it! Also, I read in your letter that your siblings call you Nicky. Well, can I just call you Nikolai? In London, Nicky is a girl's name, short for Nikola :3

Firstly, I _am_ nearly two thousand years old, for a city that is rather old. I'm glad it doesn't show in my skin, or I would be buying every anti-aging cream going. Secondly, 1665 and 1666 were some of the most painful years of my life! Thousands dying every week from one of the nastiest diseases known to man, and then a fire burning down over half the city! You're just lucky that bacteria wouldn't survive where you live. And no, I have never died before. I've felt close, but unless the whole City of London was obliterated and every citizen died, I wouldn't die.

I wrote my shoe size because I'm trying to be friendly, get some common ground between my readers and I! If you want to tell me your shoe size, that's perfectly fine by me. And thanks for the vodka, mate. Me and Essex will have a right laugh drinking it tonight.

Well, I was going to write my dress and cup sizes, but I decided against it. And France will get a slap in the face if he tries anything through a letter. The same goes for Paris – that girl is the biggest sket alive. Oh, and sket means slut, just so you know ;)

My regards to both your fathers – did you know that Russia's little nickname for me is Moscow-on-Thames? There are quite a few Russians living in London, you know. Good luck for your next hunting trip, I would recommend weapons next time.

Many thanks,

Ella Kirkland

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to december bird for sending the first letter! Much appreciation, mon amie :)<strong>

**Anyone else who wants to write, send your letter via PM or review~!**


	3. Letter 2: Dear Wisconsin

_Dear London_

_Hey it's me Wisconsin one of America's daughters. If you don't remember I'm the short on with grey eyes and black hair and I kinda dress like a punk. If you don't remember thats ok._

_So how have you been doing? I hope you doing well. So has anything intresting happened lately?_

_Sincerely_

_Samantha L. Jones_

_(Wisconsin)_

_P.S_

_I sent some of my home made fudge with the letter. I hope you like it._

* * *

><p>Dear Samantha,<p>

I do remember you, but we haven't spoken in a while! I like your clothes by the way, I dress like that when I go to Soho and Camden.

Nothing really interesting has happened these past few days. The government is starting to piss people off, but that's always the way. Take Margaret Thatcher: she went back and forth from hated prime minister to everyone's favourite lady so many times, it was ridiculous. Once I took part in one of the gangs that mobbed her car on her daily route. It didn't make me feel any better.

Did you hear about my riots last year? Apparently some shopkeepers who have recovered their stolen goods are giving them to the poor. It's also speculated that the riots were organised via Blackberry Messenger. It just shows how many youngsters have Blackberries these days. Hell, _I_ have one! They're some sort of status symbol in high school.

Thanks for the fudge! I have a really sweet tooth, you know. _Homemade_ American treats are the best, but I must admit I can't stand American chocolate :(

Regards from your sort-of-cousin,

Ella Kirkland

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to darkbeyonddeath666 for your letter! If you want to send one, just PM or review~!<strong>


	4. Letter 3: Dear Moscow

_Dear Miss Ella,_

_It's very exciting to be correspoding with another capital. I am Moscow,_

_Russia's capital. My human name is Dmitri Braginski. The reason I'm writing to you is that Russia wants me to... socialize with more cities. He says I'm a shut-in, and if I don't speak with new people, I won't be a good example of a capital. And then he wants me to practice my English._

_You have an interesting history, Miss Ella. I started out as an old fort and spent a long time as a second-in-command to St. Petersburg. I have a question for you: Is Mister England as weird as he seems? I've seen him a few times whenever there was a world meeting in Russia, and he was so strange. He talked to air a few times, and Russia just said Mister England was crazy._

_Sincerely,_

_Moscow, Dmitri Braginski_

* * *

><p>Dear Dmitri,<p>

Firstly, you are _so_ polite! I'm flattered! Mostly when I'm called 'Miss', it's condescending. Like when Arthur visits my flat, and says "You need to tidy up, Miss".

Socialising is an important part of life, you can't get by without being around people, especially as a personification. I think your English is very good – my Russian is appalling, but there are a couple of schools in the city where you can learn Russian. My best language is French, because contrary to popular belief, a language is usually compulsory in high school, at least until GCSE year. As the most popular language, French is taught at practically every high school in London and it's getting more frequent in the primary schools too. There is even The Lycée Français Charles de Gaulle in South Kensington, which is an actual French school! Paris is so smug.

Ah, my mad dad – even though I only call him Dad to tease him, seeing as I'm only five years younger than him. You probably caught him whispering to his 'fairy friends'. He never does it in public, I'll have you know, just in private. Arthur is a bit loony, but I think we all must turn that way if we've been around that long and seen so many things. And you know, sometimes I think I see things out of the corner of my eye, but when I look around, they aren't there, and sometimes I feel a sense of magic around certain times of the year. I don't know if that makes me mad too! So I think he's just as mad as the next old nation.

Just out of interest, I've heard rumours that your own father Russia is a bit off his trolley – that means crazy. Is it true?

Many kind regards,

Ella

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to Nutty Nerd for her letter!<strong>


	5. Letter 4: Dear Dublin City

_Dear Whit're-Ye-Called,_

_Dia duit, Da says Oi have ter wroite ter ye te make up fer tryin' te blow Arthur's head off last week when 'e came fer a meetin'. Apparently, it was 'a blow ter diplomatic relations,' or some **._

_Well, anyway, Oi jist wanted ter git this outta the way, so now Oi'm done._

_Hope te ne'er see ye again._

_-Cathal O'Malley_

_Dublin City_

* * *

><p>Dear Whatsyourname,<p>

So _you_ were the one! Arthur came home in a right mood that day, and that just caused trouble for me. So, _thanks_.

You never want to see me again? I'm _offended, _man. Maybe I'll turn up at your house at the weekend. Fun times ;)

Regards,

Ella Kirkland

P.S. I don't blame you for feeling like you wanted to kill Arthur, because he can be a right pain in the arse, but next time, do refrain from actually trying to kill him. It makes everyone's lives easier!

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to Beloved of Eireann for the letter!<strong>


	6. Letter 5: Dear Durham City

_Greetings from t'up North,_

_Aww, big sis! You've finally been convinced that letters are better than that weird black berry thing you tried to convince me to buy last year!_

_Anyway, how're you doing? Guess what? It snowed on Sunday. Then rained yesterday. Then froze this morning. Our weather's gone mad again._

_Newcastle got into a fight with Sunderland again over the Derby on Sunday. Can you believe it? How on Earth are they related?_

_Whoa, gotta go! Sunderland's making Molitov Cocktails... again._

_Your Northern Sister,_

_Durham City_

_Anne Kirkland_

* * *

><p>Dear Anne,<p>

BlackBerries aren't weird! They are modern and businesslike! Plus, letters are fast going out of fashion. It's sad really – I remember when the only way to communicate was via letter. Nowadays only the elderly and people writing postcards send any form of letter. Do you think in a few decades all our fingers will have shrivelled up because we'll have computers to do everything for us?

I'm doing very well, thanks. On Saturday and Sunday it poured all day, literally. We had more rain in those 48 hours than we've had in the three months before that! Is the drought affecting you up there as badly as it is down here? We're not dying of thirst or anything, but all the reservoirs are low on water and even the heaven-opening at the weekend couldn't refill them all!

Those boys, eh? Mad. Did Finland teach Sunderland how to make the Molotov cocktails? If he wasn't such a nice man, I would be over there telling him off for endangering the British Isles! I hope you stop them from wrecking the place. Arthur won't be happy if you need a new place to live.

Love,

Ella

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to greygreenwolf for the letter! To send a letter, write it in a review or PM me~!<strong>


	7. Letter 6: Dear Portsmouth

_Dear Lizzy or Ella or whatever your nickname is nowadays._

_Seriously when was the last time i saw you? I think possibly around 1940 or so? You never come visiting down south no more so thats why i guess haha._

_This is your Sister Portsmouth! The ex-pirate south coast city!_

_Miss me much? Probably not knowing you but nevertheless its nice your accepting letters! How've ya been lately? Hows Dad? I ain't seen him in aaages! Tell him i miss him kay?_

_Love your sister!_

_Bekki Kirkland_

_Portsmouth_

* * *

><p>Dear Bekki,<p>

Wow! I never expected a letter from you! It was during the Second World War that I saw you last, I think… they called you Rebecca then, right? I was Elizabeth. We were _ladies _;)

I'm sorry I've hardly spoken to you at all, but my head's been full! Brazil has overtaken the UK as a global economy? It was a bit of a shock, let's just say! I've been pestering Cameron and Clegg for news about it, but they don't know much. What useless Prime Ministers. Arthur's fine, I think, although I don't live with him anymore – I know, last time I saw you I still lived in his house! No, I moved out in… the 60s? The 70s? Somewhere around then. I got my own flat and I can do my own thing! It doesn't stop Arthur trying to tell me what to do, but a dad's always going to be a dad, right? I'll pass on your message, and tell him to visit you. That should dredge up some memories. If I were you, I'd get him drunk and listen to him rant about "the pirate days"! Spain will end up in the conversation too: "Hahahaha, I beat 'im! I crushed 'is bladdy Amrardar!" I've tried it a few times, it's well fun!

Love,

Ella

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to shadowraven45662 for the letter!<strong>


	8. Letter 7: Dear Paris

_Bonjour ma cherie!_

_My name is Madeleine - I represent the city of Paris, but of course, you know that already, non? Papa has asked me to inquire as to when "cher Rosbif" (and by that, I assume he means your father) will visit again - what should I tell him?_

_I hope that we can become friends - I gather that our respective parents are not on the best of terms, but Papa can be so silly sometimes, and from what I gather so can yours (I hope you take no offence from this - it's meant in the best of spirits, bien sur). Perhaps we can show them the error of their ways, oui?_

_Yours,_

_Madeleine Bonnefoy_

_Paris_

* * *

><p>Dear Madeleine,<p>

Oh yes, I definitely know you. We've swung from friends to enemies countless times in our lives – we've mocked each other's clothes, hairstyles and accents. But we've always been close one way or another!

I'll get Arthur to take a trip to France soon, he's been lonely these past few months. Tell Francis he'll be there by Easter if I have any impact!

I'm not offended at all! Arthur can be a right divhead. I'd be more than happy to team up with you to get those two on better terms :) But, no matter what you say, fish and chips are delicious.

Kind regards,

Ella

P.S. And just to warn Francis, "_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?"_ will not work, just as it didn't work the last time or the time before.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to Captain Happiness for the letter!<strong>


	9. Letter 8: Dear New South Wales

_Dear London,_

_G'day I'm New South Wales Australia's oldest kid. I dunno if you remember, but I think we've met before._

_Wow you have a lot of history, but you are a thousand, right? I guess I'm only two-hundred so there's not much to say. I did rebel against your dad once though, he wasn't impressed. It was a not happy Jan situation._

_You were so lucky in the sixties, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones!Back then my country was still ten years behind the rest of the world. Luckily we've caught up._

_Out of naked curiosity what was it like with all those regime changes and invasions?_

_Yours Faithfully_

_Lachlan Paterson, New South Wales._

* * *

><p>Dear Lachlan,<p>

I think we've met before, but we didn't have any in-depth chats or anything – it was probably just a hello at a meeting, right? I'm happy that you're writing to me despite that!

I'm nearly _two_ thousand years old, I'll be two thousand in 2043. I hope I'm still around by then… do you think the world will end on the 20th of December 2012? I think it's nonsense, but we're not going to know until then. Ah, the sixties were good times. I was about sixteen or seventeen then, just the right time to start properly enjoying it!

Let's see… I haven't been properly invaded for a long, long time. My human age was about four or five when the last set of Vikings came. All I remember is lots of screams and shouts in a language I couldn't understand, and being carried by the local lord as he ran. But the routine changes, they were the strangest. I would wake up in the morning and suddenly feel different. Take when the Restoration started. One day, I was a Puritan, but the next, I thought, "I actually hate these clothes! I'll send for some new ones, in red, or purple!" I had no idea as a Puritan that one day I would think like that. It's quite unnerving sometimes.

Regards,

Ella Kirkland

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to Frustration for the letter! If you want to write in, send a letter via PM or review~!<strong>


	10. Letter 9: Dear Derbyshire

_To London,_

_How are you sister? It's been ages since I've spoken to you._

_From_  
><em>Evelyn Kirkland (Derbyshire)<em>

* * *

><p>Dear Evelyn,<p>

You're right, it's been ages! Hope you're all right! Is the weather affecting you too badly? I swear, if I get one more random snowdrift...! It's just annoying now. The huge snowfall a few weeks ago ground me to a halt! I felt like an icebox, and I had to sit inside surrounded by heaters all day. Now it's just getting ridiculous.

We need to talk more!

From, Ella

* * *

><p><strong>This is the first letter I've gotten in so long, so many thanks to Becky999! Should I restart this fic?<strong>


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